


to his wrist and your heart

by harmony



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, a slightly different take from traditional soulmate AUs, happy ending because these boys deserve it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:20:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24806089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harmony/pseuds/harmony
Summary: Sometimes your soulmate isn't the person you would've expected; sometimes you end up drawn to someone else. But Prompto's doing his best, despite the circumstances.A canonverse soulmate AU in which Ignis isn't Prompto's magically designated soulmate, but that hasn't stopped Prompto from unexpectedly falling in love with him, either way.(Now with bonus chapters/side stories: 1. In which Noctis and Gladiolus can sense Prompto and Ignis doing things they'd actually rather not know about during one particular rainy night, and 2. In which trust is a valuable exercise.)
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia & Ignis Scientia friendship, Prompto Argentum & Noctis Lucis Caelum friendship, Prompto Argentum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 36
Kudos: 130





	1. his wrist, your heart - main story

**Author's Note:**

> Pretty excited to have finally written my very first ever soulmate AU! I'm usually a strict canonverse girl through and through (I mean ... this is still technically canonverse, just with a soulmate twist haha), but this concept wouldn't leave me alone because I get really weak at the knees for this kind of thing, so I just _had_ to write it. It's kind of new and challenging for me, but I hope you all like it!
> 
> The amazing artwork which you'll see approximately halfway through the story is by the wonderful [Scarlett](https://twitter.com/katyscarart/status/1273993142539337728), who actually volunteered to draw for this fic out of the blue without me even asking her or anything - she's a sweetheart and I'm so blessed to have her as a friend.
> 
> Please enjoy :)

In all honesty, he doesn’t really know exactly how it’d happened.

‘ _Ow_.’

‘Are you alright?’ Ignis calls out immediately, letting his weapons drop from his grasp and quickly running over from the other side of the training hall.

Nothing but a scratch – a predictable result of any training session, any friendly spar. But that doesn’t seem to matter when Ignis is treating it seriously, either way; when Ignis is sinking onto one knee without any hesitation to bring himself down to where Prompto’s splayed across the floor; when Ignis is warmly cradling Prompto’s hand in his own, turning Prompto’s scraped palm over with gentle fingers in inspection, sweeping a callused thumb over Prompto’s red-raw knuckles in unmistakable worry and care.

Everything considered, Prompto isn’t exactly friends with Ignis in the same way he is with Noctis, even after having known each other for a few short years. But he can admit that, maybe, there have been plenty of other days like this where it’s harder to tell the difference.

‘All good, Iggy,’ Prompto winces through tightly clenched teeth, throwing him a silly thumbs up with his free hand. ‘Nothing I can’t handle.’

‘Yes, I’m sure.’ A no-nonsense answer, and Ignis is barely gone for a minute before he’s back at Prompto’s side with the training room’s first aid kit in hand, his presence as firm as if he’d never even left. ‘Still, you’re hurt, either way. Here, let me take care of it.’

Somehow, just hearing that is already making it easier for Prompto to huff out a single breathy laugh through the stinging pain. ‘Man, this is tough, huh? Not exactly sure how I’m gonna make Crownsguard, at this rate.’

‘You will. This is only your first training session. You just need to take your time and keep it up.’ The sentiment comes out matter-of-fact, but genuinely kind and sincere; Ignis makes quick work of cleaning Prompto’s injury, then, in preparation for bandaging them up. ‘Noct believes in you. _I_ believe in you.’

Prompto swallows, frozen in place.

Because he doesn’t really know exactly how it’d happened. There’d been no significant event, no memorable incident, no noticeable turn to the friendly relationship they currently have. Just a small handful of years of having gotten to know each other through Noctis, and a slow, gradual understanding like this has been bound to happen all along. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

He’s nearly nineteen, and realization strikes him like it’s always been written into the marrow of his bones all this time.

 _… Oh, shit_ , he thinks all of a sudden. _I really like him._

* * *

He’d been surprised by the snug heat of Ignis’ hand, back when he’d actually shaken it for the first time.

Because it hadn’t been that much of a stretch to describe Ignis as looking like he’d had a cold edge to him. Crisp-pressed shirts and polished glasses, a lifetime’s worth of discipline all carried by a ruler-straight spine. _Real pain in my ass sometimes_ , Noctis had told him. _Not even my dad is that strict_.

‘You must be Prompto,’ Ignis had said, generous and sociable and anything but judgmental or dismissive.

Prompto had just blinked, caught off-guard.

To be honest, he’d kind of expected a detached, impersonal greeting at most. Not … _this_. Ignis looking him straight in the eye, rapt and interested and attentive. Ignis’ fingers lightly squeezing his own, clearly good-natured and approachable without even needing to show it with words.

In any case, it’d been enough to get a sliver of delight to start kindling in his chest, and he could barely stop his own mouth from slipping into a toothy grin.

‘Yeah,’ he’d said, unable to keep the sunny cheer from leaking through into his voice. ‘Ignis, right? It’s nice to meet you, finally.’

Ignis’ lips had proceeded to curve upward at the corners in reply, too, and truth be told, Prompto couldn’t help thinking that it was the kind of smile that he’d remember for the rest of his life.

* * *

‘Honestly, you two.’ Ignis lets out a long sigh, although there’s no real jab behind the words. ‘Birds of a feather.’

‘Yeah, I’d say we’re practically soulmates at this point,’ Prompto laughs, and reaches out momentarily to pat the empty space next to him on Noctis’ couch. ‘C’mon, Iggy, chill and play with me for a while, please? Just until Noct wakes up from his nap. Video games are kinda less fun when I don’t have a buddy to muscle through them with me.’

‘Noct says the exact same thing every time he begs me to let you to come stay the night.’ With that, Ignis gives in, sinking himself down beside Prompto and shifting a little in his seat to get more comfortable. ‘Well, then. Considering your second training session with me is still quite a few hours away, I suppose we have plenty of time. Pass me the controller, please, if you’d be so kind.’

Neither of them even need to say more – Prompto bursts into a merry cheer of unashamed glee, and moves to happily oblige.

It’s while he’s working on booting up the game that Ignis finally breaks the silence, though, clearing his throat and somewhat casually blurting out: ‘… Speaking of soulmates, by the way. Have you actually found yours?’

The abrupt question stops Prompto in his tracks.

It’s something that he hasn’t given much thought to, in all honesty. Not when it’d hardly been a valid topic of serious study during his high school years, in the same way that anything to do with relationships in general wouldn’t have been, and he’s only really turned to social media gossip to learn anything new ever since. Not when most of his days at home are spent on his own with his parents always out of town for work, and he’s barely had anyone to ask about that kind of thing, given the circumstances. Not when meeting Noctis had ended up literally changing his life, and he hasn’t exactly felt hollow or lonely or desperate to hunt down some conceptual magical partner ever since they’d become best friends.

He must’ve stayed quiet for a little too long thinking about this, though, because Ignis starts to visibly squirm where he’s sitting. ‘I’m sorry. In hindsight, I shouldn’t have asked such a personal question.’

‘No, no, it’s not you. I just – don’t really know much about that stuff,’ Prompto quickly says, throwing his palms upright to wave his hands in frantic reassurance. ‘Other than that we all get some kind of mark after puberty, or something, and that our _other halves_ develop a mark in the same place. Don’t have a clue how that makes anyone soulmates in a literal sense … but whatever works, I guess. I also know that a lot of people have more than one soulmate. But yeah, like, that’s pretty much the extent of what I understand, not gonna lie.’

‘That’s more or less all there is to it, so I’d say you’re doing just fine.’ For a moment, Ignis presses his lips together into a thin line, deliberate and thoughtful. ‘I suppose the appeal of the entire thing for most people is tied in to how fortunate we are that magic is something that exists? It’s the little details – like a safe and lifelong internal connection that’s ultimately unique to the person that you’re tied to. Sometimes, a little _pull_ inside you when they’re nearby or feeling a certain way. Having all of this confirmed in the mark on your skin even if it’s true that it serves no other actual purpose. That sort of thing.’

‘Wow.’ Heat trickles into Prompto’s belly, over Prompto’s collarbones, all of a sudden. ‘I don’t hear much talk about all _that_. That sounds real nice.’

‘It’s because there’s no name for it, scientific or otherwise. People just _know_.’ Unexpectedly, Ignis then smiles at him, warm and gentle and sweet as a summer morning, and it gets Prompto’s heart racing in his chest in no time flat. ‘I’m sure you’ll understand once your mark shows up, because that’s when you’ll start to feel all of it. Anyway, enough of that – I was simply curious, but it’s not really for me to ask. Come, now, your game is waiting.’

‘Hey, the title menu isn’t going anywhere, you know. And I told you it’s totally okay, dude. Gonna be real with you here … I still don’t get this soulmate stuff, and I have no idea who mine is, but, uh. I think that maybe I wouldn’t object if it ended up being _certain people_.’

The words are pointed, purposeful, with Prompto holding Ignis’ gaze eye to eye. After a moment, Ignis raises a single eyebrow, the tips of his ears turning a telltale pink.

‘Ah. Is that so?’

The smile hasn’t faded at all from Ignis’ face, and wishful thinking or not, Prompto can’t help but relish in the way it’s starting to look a hell of a lot like Ignis might actually like him back.

In any case, he’s definitely not imagining that _tug_ that he’s feeling behind his ribs right now.

That said, he doesn’t answer with anything more than a simple grin when Noctis asks why he’s in such a good mood later that afternoon.

* * *

‘… But how did you know?’

‘Look, I can’t exactly describe – I mean, as soon as it was confirmed to me that Luna had the same mark on her hip that I did, I just knew. Like, when I think about the vague feeling I’ve always kinda had that I was connected to her in some way and this weird little _pull_ I get from her sometimes … I don’t know what else to tell you. Once you see the proof, you just _know_.’ Noctis tosses Prompto a sidelong glance, seeming equal parts baffled and curious. ‘Seriously, though, what’s brought this on all of a sudden? Why are you so interested in this stuff out of the blue, now.’

‘No reason. I’m just intrigued,’ Prompto says defensively, waving the question off as nonchalantly as he’s able to. He then scrunches his nose in Noctis’ direction, obnoxious and teasing, and continues: ‘Never heard you talk about it, so maybe I’m just catching up. Did you ever think about that?’

‘That’s because I only found out like two months ago, you dork. End of puberty and everything, remember.’ Noctis gives Prompto’s shoulder a little shove, then, hardly any serious push but still enough for Prompto to stumble awkwardly over his next step as they’re walking together through the Citadel hallway. ‘Besides which, it didn’t get much news coverage because it surprised literally no one. Not even me. Hell, I would’ve been surprised if it turned out Luna _hadn’t_ been my soulmate, let’s be real.’

‘Yeah, I get that.’

There’s something about _just knowing_ that sounds more romantic than he can really describe; a vague and mysterious concept that’s all the more thrilling and exhilarating in his mind right now, considering the fact that he hasn’t ever particularly grasped or experienced it. For a moment, he wonders if it’s actually the same for everyone. If it’ll be the same for _him_ , too.

‘… I think I may have another one, though? Another soulmate, I mean,’ Noctis says meaningfully, pursing his lips in thought. ‘Never understood how that worked, but hey. Hasn’t been confirmed yet, either way.’

Prompto almost misses that on account of Ignis suddenly rounding the corner of the hallway into view.

Just like that, there’s an unmistakable tug in his chest again, and his heart leaps.

‘Well, here’s hoping you find your second, then,’ Prompto replies, clapping Noctis heartily on the shoulder and flashing Ignis a miniscule smile as he’s walking toward them, presumably on the way to his office; the smile’s instantly returned without even a moment’s delay. ‘And that I find mine, period.’

Noctis claps his shoulder in return before slinging an arm around his shoulders, and in every possible way, Prompto’s never been more grateful to have his best friend.

* * *

Once he gets the confirmation, he can’t bolt out of the medical clinic fast enough.

Because what the doctor’s just told him proves it. Without question, that little half-inch spot of darkened skin that’d appeared right beneath his left thumb two weeks back, shaped like a tiny cross, is no sunburn or injury. And now he knows it for sure.

He runs, blood pounding a rhythm in his ears and excitement searing through his veins.

Ignis looks up with visible surprise from whatever he’s cooking on the stove when Prompto finally bursts through the door of Noctis’ apartment – admittedly, Prompto may have definitely been a bit over-enthusiastic, but everything considered, he can barely keep it in right now – and at that point, Prompto doesn’t even bother holding himself back, cheering: ‘Dude, I found my soulmark!’ with an animated and eager fist pump.

All he gets from Ignis, for a moment, is a stunned blink; but before long, Ignis seems to relax, brow loosening and lips quirking into a soft smile. ‘Ah, very good. I must admit, I _did_ feel something of a shift and change in the wind as well, back when I found mine.’ He moves to turn the heat down on the stove, before casually resting slackened fingers on a cocked hip. ‘I’m sure it must be a delight for you to stumble into something so unexplored and new.’

‘Yeah! I didn’t think I’d be so into this stuff, but once I saw my wrist, I just _had_ to get it checked out.’

‘Mine took a little longer to spot, which was unfortunate,’ Ignis raises an eyebrow, then, and gestures at his collarbone in indication. ‘It’s not exactly located in a convenient place.’

And just like that, Prompto’s struck silent.

For a moment, all he can do is gape, tongue dry and thick in his mouth.

‘… Wait. Yours is,’ he scratches out eventually, once he’s managed to find some trace of his voice; he flimsily points at his own collarbone, hesitant and unsure. ‘Here?’

‘It is.’ Without seeming the least bit perturbed, Ignis picks up a nearby napkin from the kitchen benchtop and coolly wipes his hands with it. ‘It took _even longer_ than that to find my match, too, given that Gladio has a giant eagle’s head covering his own clavicle. Slowed the process down for the two of us when it came to detection, that’s for sure.’

Anything that Prompto could’ve said after that straight-up dies at his lips.

He doesn’t even know what to say.

The fleeting silence is broken by Noctis strolling out of the open doorway of the bathroom, though, face damp with lingering droplets like he’s just been washing up to get ready for dinner. ‘Prompto,’ he cuts in, voice coming out blunt and strange. ‘Did you say you found yours on your wrist?’

Somewhat lost and deflated, Prompto slowly turns over to him and can only give a single nod, extending his left hand for Noctis to see.

Noctis stares at it for a moment, quiet. Visibly swallows, clamps his teeth. And then, without saying a single word, he stretches his arm forward into Prompto’s line of view, too, to hold out his own wrist.

Which is marked by an all-too-familiar dark cross-shape tucked right up underneath the thumb.

* * *

_Second Soulmate Discovered: Best Friend Found To Be Crown Prince’s New Match_

Front page facing up and bold headline in full display, Prompto can hardly help but feel like the newspaper that’s sprawled across the dashboard in front of him right now is currently taunting him just by existing.

Of all days, he wishes that Ignis hadn’t actually brought it along with him on their drive today.

‘… Alright, well, here we are,’ Ignis says nonchalantly, pulling up in front of Prompto’s parents’ house. ‘Have you got everything with you?’

He’s had a few days to process it all, and it still doesn’t make sense.

That is to say, he’d had no proof, but the very idea of Ignis miraculously turning out to be his soulmate had felt so _right_. Seamless and perfect, as though it would’ve nearly been guaranteed for him to have seen a matching soulmark on Ignis’ wrist when he’d burst into Noctis’ apartment right after his doctor’s visit last week. With all the tender, honeyed flutters in his stomach and the warm, stirring tugs in his chest every time he’d been around Ignis lately, something about it had felt almost sure. Destined. Meant to be.

Then again, he’s always understood that the world isn’t exactly known for just giving people anything they want.

‘… Prompto?’

‘Sorry,’ he says, pulling in a tremulous breath and moving to grab his backpack. ‘Yeah, I’ve got all my stuff. Thanks for the training session today. And for giving me a lift home.’

‘It doesn’t sit well with me to see you upset.’ Ignis shifts in the driver’s seat, swiveling a little to face Prompto more. ‘I can stick around for a little while, if you’d like. Is there anything you might want to talk about?’

 _God_. Even now, when having it bad for Ignis is the main reason for Prompto’s current internal crisis over his unexpected soul-bond with Noctis in the first place, he’s giving Prompto reasons to like him _more_.

‘Honestly, it’s pretty dumb.’ Prompto’s fingers slacken; his backpack slumps down to its original position by his feet again. ‘I guess I feel really unsure about everything? As in, what does being a second soulmate even _mean_? For real, it’s already pretty set in stone that Noct and Lady Lunafreya are gonna end up … well, y’know. Where’s that gonna leave me? And me and Noct? Now that I’m basically tied to Noct, are people gonna feel weird about me? Would anyone even wanna be friends with me anymore? Or get close to me in any way at all, like, even a little bit?’

‘Oh. I … wouldn’t worry about that,’ Ignis says in an oddly too-casual tone, before releasing a tiny cough into his fist and clearing his throat; for whatever reason, he seems a little more rosy along his jawline and cheekbones now than he’d been before. ‘Really, though, none of this is “dumb” in the least – all your concerns make perfect sense to me. I’d assure you, however, that nothing has to change if you don’t want it to. Not in terms of yourself, not in terms of you and Noct, not in any way that you wouldn’t like.’

‘Seems easier said than done. I’m starting to realize that I’m just, like, out of my depth with everything,’ Prompto replies, slanting his lips askew. He squares his shoulders, then, bracing himself. ‘What did finding each other mean … for you and Gladio?’

As soon as the words have tumbled out past his teeth, there’s a part of him that already kind of doesn’t want to know the answer.

Besides which, Ignis and Gladiolus hadn’t ever mentioned being each other’s soulmates in these last few years. Prompto gets it well enough, though; it isn’t like he himself is all that close to Gladiolus to begin with, and Ignis is, generally speaking, a private person who doesn’t always let his mouth run freely about personal things like that.

But Ignis looks at him, sensible and calm, and doesn’t miss a single beat. ‘We’re not together in that way, if that’s what you’re asking. I doubt we’ll ever be. We don’t see each other like that,’ he answers, voice firm and gaze steady. ‘Finding out we were soulmates essentially meant me becoming attuned to him, and him becoming attuned to me. We can read each other better than most, feel each other better than most, breathe in time, move like we’re in sync. In that regard, yes, I’m bonded to him for life. However, nothing else about us has changed.’

Prompto pulls in a breath, chews down on his lip.

Right now, he can’t particularly tell whether he’s overthinking things, or not thinking about things enough to actually get it.

‘… Guess I’ll sleep on it,’ is all he ends up saying.

Ignis reaches over to graze soft-curved knuckles encouragingly and reassuringly against the back of Prompto’s palm, and it’s maybe not so easy to ignore the way that the trail of heat it leaves across Prompto’s skin doesn’t fade even hours later.

* * *

In all likelihood, he probably doesn’t really know how to be sensible.

Because he shouldn’t be this down and discouraged, especially not after what Ignis had told him in the car. But every minute that he’s spending watching Ignis spar with Gladiolus is managing to make it even more and more obvious exactly to what degree Ignis has been going easy on him in their training sessions – and taking everything else into account on top of that, he can barely fight the itch in all his nerves and muscles to just pick himself up from where he’d been sitting on the training room floor for the last half-hour, and to simply get the hell out of there.

So he does leave.

 _Don’t think about it_ , he tells himself. He’s not going to think about how evenly matched Ignis and Gladiolus had been: a perfect fit. He’s not going to think about how fluidly their bodies had moved in relation to each other, in seamless strikes and counterstrikes alike, in every instant reflex and rapid thought as if there’s a lot more behind their interactions than just plain skill. He’s not going to think about how _alive_ and electric with thrill both of their smiles had been just now, like they ultimately belonged in that moment with each other, like they’re more or less right at home.

He’s not going to think about how painfully obvious it’d been all along that Ignis and Gladiolus are pretty much built to be soulmates.

‘Prompto? Where are you going.’

And he should’ve known that Ignis would be worried enough to come after him, simply because he’s just that thoughtful and kind. At this rate, he thinks that maybe he’ll never run out of reasons why he’s ended up liking Ignis so much.

‘… To get some air,’ he replies, picking idly at a loose thread hanging off the hem of his sleeveless top. ‘Thanks for letting me watch, but … man, I don’t know. Maybe I just need to clear my head.’

For a moment, Ignis looks like he’s about to say something before then seeming to stop himself, chewing down on his cheek.

There’s no mistaking that he’s waiting for Prompto to actually elaborate; Prompto sighs at that, and gives in.

‘I feel like I can’t measure up.’

That seems to catch Ignis by surprise – vivid green eyes circle out and widen behind silver glass like he’s been caught off-guard.

‘To what, exactly?’

In all honesty, Prompto doesn’t know how to answer that without sounding potentially stupid, or self-centered, or not particularly rational on any level. But in the end, it turns out he doesn’t need to say anything at all, because every corner of Ignis’ face suddenly starts to loosen, slow and gradual, like he’s just had a dawning epiphany.

‘… Is everything that’s been bothering you recently,’ Ignis starts, eyeballing Prompto with understanding and purpose, ‘tied to you and me?’

Even now, Prompto can still feel that tug in his chest like it’s still trying to convince him that they could be soulmates, and he almost wants to laugh like he’s never laughed before, rough and trembling and dismayed.

But he doesn’t. He clenches his throat, presses his lips together. Keeps quiet, because he’s not really sure what to do about all this anymore.

‘Prompto.’ Ignis takes a firm step forward, and it’s pretty impressive how his voice doesn’t so much as waver, how it’s coming out with not even a single hint of hesitancy or nonsense in it. ‘Believe me when I say that I think you’re _superb_ just as you are. Some predetermined magical connection that the gods and the universe decided to bestow upon me without my having asked for it, regardless of how much good it actually brings into my life, is not going to change that.’

‘Is the magic really wrong, though?’ Prompto says, raking tensed fingers through his hair with some degree of unease. ‘Even if we forget about the whole me and Noct thing, you guys are like, _perfect_. Say what you want about the gods and the universe, but dude, I can totally see why you two got paired up.’

‘Sure,’ Ignis answers somewhat exasperatedly, pinching with emphasis at the bridge of his nose. ‘But Gladio _isn’t the one I’m interested in_.’

Prompto’s literally just opened his mouth to let loose some more when _that_ stops him short.

Instantly, he’s left winded, gaping at Ignis in silence without a single word.

For a while now, since maybe even before their first conversation about soulmates at Noctis’ apartment, he’s had the unexplained inkling that Ignis might actually like him too, for whatever reason. And considering what he’s just said—

‘—Seems like it may have been a mistake on my part, bringing up the soulmate matter with you in the first place,’ Ignis interrupts that thought, his murmur tinged with a trace of guilt and regret. ‘Clearly, I’ve ended up causing you undue restlessness and distress. My apologies.’

He doesn’t wait for Prompto’s reply, turning on his heel to move off as soon as he’s done talking – and the vast expanse of the Citadel hallway stretches even more endlessly, even more hollowly, after Ignis has left and is gone.

* * *

There’s a hint of light on the horizon the next time they see each other.

For a moment, Ignis stops, and stares. For a moment, Prompto almost expects this to be too awkward to handle. For a moment, he wonders if everything’s changed, and he can barely push down the cold dread that’s suddenly rising in his stomach at the thought.

But then Ignis opens his mouth, and Prompto knows right away that he’d never needed to worry about any of that at all.

‘Prompto,’ Ignis says; the name comes out gentle, tinged with sincere concern. ‘Have you been out here all night?’

Prompto pushes himself up to his feet from where he’d been sitting curled up on the front steps and shrugs as casually as he’s able to, but isn’t completely able to smother the light shudder rippling along his shoulders. ‘It’s all good. I needed the fresh air. And, uh, I didn’t know when you were coming out – I figured you’d be working late, and since I didn’t know _how late_ , I thought I’d just hang here for a while.’

‘Heavens, you’re shivering.’ With that, Ignis smoothly skims down the length of the Citadel’s great stairway toward him while shrugging off his thick woolen jacket; before Prompto knows it, the two of them are barely inches apart and he’s thoroughly cloaked by a sea of warm fabric and faint tendrils of Ignis’ delicate scent. ‘You should’ve just come up to my office. Or called me. Honestly, you and your sleeveless shirts … you must be cold.’

‘A little, but it’s not all that bad. Didn’t bring a jacket ‘cause it wasn’t this cool when I left my place.’ He takes in a breath, sinks himself into the cozy comfort of the sturdy material enfolding him as if Ignis is all around him, flush against him, enveloping him right now. ‘Anyway … it’s nice to see you.’

Ignis’ eyes soften in no time at all, mild and heartfelt. ‘Nice to see you, too.’

If anything, Ignis looks even more effortlessly handsome crowned by the dawn half-light.

After a moment, Prompto tensely clears his throat, and shuffles his feet listlessly against the concrete step. ‘Look, you’re right. I do have, like, this _giant_ crush on you and the whole soulmate thing totally threw me for a loop.’ Long fingers peek out from the front opening of Ignis’ jacket, and Prompto absentmindedly pinches its edges together tighter, even more securely around himself. ‘It’s not your fault, so please don’t think that anymore, but I just gotta admit that I’m maybe not so great at stuff like this.’

‘No one expects you to be.’ Ignis curls snug hands around Prompto’s elbows as if to steady him, and it works like a charm – in more or less an instant, Prompto can feel his own high-strung nerves winding down already, both of his restless feet eventually going still. ‘Either way, I’m sorry that things didn’t turn out quite the way you’d hoped.’

‘Don’t be. Can’t change what the universe gave me,’ Prompto says, tilting his lips crookedly in thought. ‘Although, yeah. In the end, it’s not like I can really change what I want, either.’

‘Like I said, you shouldn’t have to. If you think it feels right – that is to say, I’m—’ Ignis draws in even closer, then, his gaze suddenly a little modest and shy; after a while, though, he sets his jaw resolutely, seeming to steel himself. ‘I mean, if it’s okay with you … may I?’

The words come out breathless, and that’s somehow more than enough for Prompto to come to the staggering realization of – _oh, shit_.

Ignis wants to kiss him.

As far as his short-circuiting brain is concerned, _yes_ is already on the tip of his tongue in pretty much a split second without him having to even think about it. Although either way, he’s not really thinking too much about it, _period_. Because he’s already leaning forward in reply like his body knows exactly which choice to make, propping himself up a little higher on his toes and framing a tremulous hand against the side of Ignis’ throat and jaw, before gently pulling Ignis more into himself to warmly close their distance.

It’s soft and slow, honey-sweet. Mellow and delicate even when Prompto’s heart is beating a million miles a minute, even when that familiar sensation in his chest is tugging stronger than ever. And with only that, something seems to click into place; he has to wonder for a moment what that strange feeling could be. If it’s maybe that thing that he’s heard several times now about _just knowing_.

Ignis’ eyes are full and dark when they slowly break apart at long last, face clearly flushed a lively pink even in the semi-darkness and quiet breaths spilling out in quivers from his lungs, and Prompto feels as though he’s about to burst at the seams just from seeing it.

‘—It does feel right,’ tumbles out through his teeth without any further pause. ‘That’s – wow.’

Pleasure leaks into the lines of Ignis’ mouth and cheekbones at that, a charming smile starting to bloom at his lips with clear relief, and he’s so unbelievably lovely right now that Prompto almost can’t believe that that look on his face is _for him_.

‘… But … I seriously don’t wanna mess this up,’ Prompto continues, nibbling at the corner of his tongue – a shadow of Ignis’ lingering aftertaste has almost seeped into the rough wetness there; the fact that he’d literally kissed him just now is still surreal, almost unthinkable on any other day – and guilt prickles in his stomach when he sees Ignis’ smile suddenly falter, fading in reaction. ‘The last thing I want is to end up being, like, a disappointment or a nuisance to you, or whatever. I think that maybe … I should probably actually try to pull myself together for now, before – well, _anything else_ , you know? So I don’t keep being a total disaster like I’ve been these last few weeks. This stupid soulmate thing’s got me confused all the time and I really don’t want that to ruin things, ‘cause for real, you don’t deserve that. Hope you’re not mad.’

‘Never,’ Ignis immediately replies, half-lidded eyes patient and full of understanding. ‘I wouldn’t want to smother you either. Not in a million years. There’s no hurry. No pressure.’

Prompto squeezes Ignis’ shoulder in quiet gratitude, and can hardly stop his own heart from swelling raw and tender behind his ribs when Ignis meaningfully squeezes his upper arms in return.

* * *

‘So.’ Noctis raises a single eyebrow, and tilts himself sideways against the open doorway of the locker room. ‘You and Specs, huh.’

Prompto freezes midway through wriggling into his training shirt, and can only throw Noctis a wide-eyed stare.

‘… How,’ he replies a little too calmly, the lone syllable round and slow, ‘the literal _hell_ could you possibly know about that.’

‘Easily. I’m your soulmate, remember?’ Noctis lightly pumps his shoulders up in an offhand shrug, blunt and unbothered, and finally strolls forward to take a seat next to Prompto on the wooden bench. ‘Not sure how to explain it other than that I could just feel it. Especially whenever you guys were near each other at any point. There’s all this gooey emotional stuff there now that wasn’t really there before. At least not in the way that it is right now.’

Surprised, Prompto blinks at that, before sliding his shirt down at last. ‘You don’t find it weird?’

‘The fact that I can sense it? Nah. Comes with the whole soulmate thing, so it’s kinda to be expected,’ Noctis monotones, the answer slowly ballooning into a casual yawn with every word, little by little. ‘Or are you talking about how it turns out you and Specs have the hots for each other? ‘Cause yeah, I guess I’m a bit weirded out by that, even though I can see it. Didn’t realize he was your type, or whatever, until recently. But anyway, it’d be weirder if you wanted to date _me_ after finding our soulmarks, not gonna lie.’

An unexpectedly concrete, unhesitating sentiment; Prompto swallows, mind racing and pulse quickening at his throat.

‘… Really? Even though we’re soulmates?’

‘ _Especially_ ‘cause we’re soulmates. You wouldn’t really wanna push yourself to have feelings that aren’t there just to keep in line with some fixed magical bond that you had no choice in getting, right?’ Noctis says pointedly, swiveling sideways to face Prompto more while resting one foot up on the bench. ‘My dad’s got two soulmates too – guess it runs in the family. No surprise that my mom was one, but Gladio’s dad is the other. And hey, things worked out just great between him and Gladio’s dad even though they never … you know.’

‘So I’m not gonna end up being, like—’ Prompto replies, squirming a little in his seat. ‘Some weird, intrusive tag-along for you and Lady Lunafreya when you guys get married one day, right?’

All of a sudden, there’s a prominent _pull_ at his belly, and out of thin air, a wash of strange emotions and sensations abruptly start to pour down the back of his neck.

Warmth; nostalgia and longing; fondness. A variety of feelings that Prompto can easily read as if they’re his own, but can somehow tell _aren’t_ his own – as if he’s separated from them by a thin sheet of glass, as if they’re distant enough for him to see without being able to touch. And beyond any doubt, Prompto knows that Noctis is stitched into them, clear as day; weaved into each emotion like a signature carrying his movement, his scent, his presence, his _everything_. All randomly stirred up from Prompto having done nothing other than to briefly mention Lady Lunafreya’s name to Noctis himself.

It doesn’t last, though; barely a few seconds have even ticked by before the sensations fade as quickly as they’d come, leaving Prompto reeling, stunned, breathless.

Before long, the pull in his stomach fizzles out, too – although maybe not completely, as if there’s a leftover undercurrent, a lingering aftertaste, of that tug that’ll never really go away.

Already, he thinks that he may understand the whole soulmate thing just the tiniest bit more.

He barely even realizes that Ignis has entered and made his way well inside the locker room until he hears the crisp, solid footsteps sweeping toward him, which does spur him to actually turn his head and look out of automatic reflex.

‘… Never. You’re your own man through and through, so go walk whatever road you want, buddy.’ With that, Noctis springs deftly off the bench and starts to make his way off, flicking a knowing gaze between Prompto and Ignis along the way. ‘That’s my cue to go.’

The short silence that his departure leaves behind is serene enough, easygoing enough, that Prompto surprisingly feels less antsy or troubled than he’d expected to all this time.

‘… What was that about?’ Ignis asks somewhat curiously; he stretches out a lean hand, palm facing up.

Prompto takes it, and doesn’t particularly move to let go even when he’s gotten up onto his feet – the cushions of their fingers slot together perfectly as if they’ve always been made to fit, and judging by the way that Ignis’ grip tightens the slightest bit in reaction, he doesn’t exactly seem to mind that Prompto’s just unexpectedly decided to hold his hand out of nowhere.

‘Progress, I think,’ Prompto replies, relishing in the heat of Ignis’ skin against his own. ‘Alrighty, I’m all ready for training when you are. Wanna go?’

The tug that he feels in his chest when Ignis offers him an approving look and a single nod is, in a lot of ways, definitely different somehow from the one that he’d felt in his belly just a few minutes before.

Even when he’s not sure exactly where things stand with Ignis as of right now, there’s a tranquility to walking hand-in-hand with him to the training room that he can’t deny at all, and he wonders if maybe that’s already a clear answer and sign in itself.

* * *

‘—Hey, I’m gonna head home,’ Prompto says, with one hand resting against the doorframe of Ignis’ office. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t work too late, yeah?’

Ignis gives a single nod, stepping in close. Out of nowhere, something seems to flare in his expression: a hint of eagerness that’s crystal-clear enough that for a single wild moment, Prompto almost thinks that he’s going to kiss him again.

Except he knows, deep down, that Ignis would never break his word about pushing to cross the threshold to actually becoming romantically involved. _I wouldn’t want to smother you either,_ he’d promised back then. _There’s no hurry. No pressure._

So whatever kiss Prompto’s half-imagining doesn’t come. Ignis winds his arms around Prompto’s shoulders instead, and presses him in tight. Tangles his fingers into the hair at the back of Prompto’s neck, and breathes a warm sigh into the hollow of Prompto’s cheek.

As far as Prompto knows, Ignis doesn’t particularly go around hugging anyone. He’s nearly sure that Ignis generally doesn’t _do_ hugs at all, period. But then again – here he is, holding him close, and openly letting out a hum of gladness and relief in obvious response to Prompto slowly hugging him back.

It’s more than a pleasant surprise.

‘Thank you, Prompto.’ Ignis’ murmur sears hot against the shell of Prompto’s ear. ‘Have a safe trip home.’

He lets go too quickly for Prompto’s liking, walks away too soon, and Prompto can’t help but shiver with the loss of the touch.

* * *

‘If you ask me,’ Gladiolus deadpans, peering at him through lowered lashes, ‘both of you are morons.’

Prompto looks up from the bowl of hot, steaming popcorn that he’d just set down on Noctis’ coffee table, face wrinkling at the seams like Gladiolus has just said the most scandalous thing.

‘That’s so _mean_ ,’ he protests in a huff, straightening up and placing both hands on his hips in deliberate complaint. ‘… Wait, who’s _both of you_.’

Gladiolus doesn’t even try to hide his pointed eyeroll at that. ‘You and Iggy, who else? Even if I couldn’t _sense_ all his pining, I literally wouldn’t have been able to miss it. You guys are painful to watch.’

Prompto blinks at that for a moment, jawline going slack.

‘… He’s pining?’

‘Astrals, I can’t believe—’ Gladiolus says with some level of exasperation, while dragging Noctis’ beanbag over to a more comfortable position in front of the TV. ‘Y’know what, blondie, I get it. You’ve been kinda shut away and on your own for a lot of these years, so it makes sense to me that you’ve got this, like, glossy social media outlook on how the hell soul bonds work. But if most of what your brain’s absorbed about relationships and friendships is from the movies and whatever, you’re straight-up gonna have a tough time in real life. If you catch my drift.’

In a lot of ways, Prompto does understand that he’s always seen things a bit differently. That the aching loneliness of his younger years has maybe left him with a rose-tinted view of what it’s like to fit in; that the simple happiness of connecting with anyone at all has maybe given him starry-eyed expectations on what the world might’ve been able to offer him.

A dreamy, pastel-colored romance with a magically predestined soulmate isn’t necessarily one of those things, and now he knows it.

‘… Yeah, I gotcha. Don’t you worry about me, big guy. For sure, Iggy’s – look, I want this to work out, more than anything,’ he answers, every bit of the statement firm and fully meant. Suddenly, he really wishes Ignis were here with him, close enough to touch: an unexpected craving kindling like an itch underneath his skin. ‘Moving forward, I guess I just … gotta make sure everything’s good. Good enough for it to be the right time.’

Gladiolus doesn’t seem to have any complaints over that, dropping himself bonelessly into the beanbag without another word.

Hardly moments later, the front door clicks and swings open; Noctis wastes no time in sweeping inside with a bag of groceries dangling from each hand, upbeat and brimming with energy. ‘Hell yeah, movie night. God, there was way too much work today. I’m so ready to just _chill_.’

‘Welcome back,’ Prompto calls out cheerfully, with a restless bounce on the balls of his feet. ‘Uh, is Iggy joining us, or—?’

‘Settle down, tiger,’ Noctis says in a knowing tone, exchanging a hyperaware kind of look with Gladiolus along the way. ‘He’s still downstairs getting the rest of the groceries out of the car. You’ll get to see him soon.’

‘Hey, c’mon, I’m just curious. It’s not like I’m—’ Prompto starts, before cutting himself off with a sigh, recognizing his own half-finished sentiment for the shameless lie that it is. ‘Y’know what, never mind.’

Noctis grins at him, somewhat annoyingly keen and suggestive, before quickly disappearing into the kitchenette to set the groceries aside.

And just like that, Prompto’s left on edge.

* * *

In all seriousness, though, he must’ve been kidding himself – because for whatever reason, even though he’s the one who’d said it’d probably be better to wait, it’s somehow _always_ felt like the right time anyway.

Which is why it doesn’t take much more than having that persistent, lingering want burn a little too hot in his veins again one night for Prompto to unexpectedly find himself out the door before he knows it, and sprinting toward Ignis’ apartment in the dark and the faint drizzle outside.

All things considered, he doesn’t even know what he’s going to say when he gets there. Not really. Not when he can’t shake off the feeling that things have already managed to shift somewhat from how they’d been when he’d mentioned needing to pull himself together. Not when he’s almost sure that at this point, after everything Noctis and Gladiolus have told him recently … he’s starting to actually _get it_.

So he finds himself running.

He runs, repeating to himself over and over in his head that it’s probably just because he doesn’t want to get too wet underneath the light sprinkle of rain, while knowing all the way down in his gut that it’s definitely a lot more than that. He runs, filled to the brim with almost the same kind of _push_ and inspiration as all the times that he’d also jogged in the rain while trying to get in shape as a young boy, spurred on by just as much adrenaline and drive as if a fire’s been lit underneath him.

Except that now he’s grown enough to understand everything that he’s aching for from every angle, and far from being a young boy anymore.

Needless to say, Ignis has a surprised look on his face even as he’s quickly ushering Prompto inside, blurting out: ‘Goodness, you’re damp all over. Is everything alright? I wasn’t expecting you. Although you’re always very welcome, of course.’

‘Sorry, I know it’s getting really late,’ Prompto says, heartbeats suddenly hammering against his ribs and at the peak of his throat. ‘I’ve got your jacket with me. Not gonna lie, I’ve been kinda scatterbrained and putting off giving it back ever since that morning on the stairs, so, uh—’

Ignis doesn’t say anything to that, quiet and patient; for some reason, it’s managing to light even more of a spark in Prompto’s belly right now than he’d had the entire time that he’d been making his way here.

‘—Yeah, okay, bringing your jacket was totally just an excuse,’ he admits, frank and direct, haphazardly tossing the thick pile of fabric over the back of one of Ignis’ nearby dining chairs. ‘I just really _really_ wanted to see you.’

A wide-eyed look meets him in reply, and even in the silence, he can hear the unspoken sentiment of: _Does that mean …?_

So he reaches out, catches hold of both of Ignis’ wrists; takes two purposeful steps backward, pulling Ignis along with him while sliding his fingertips over the sleek, delicate bones and down into the cushions of Ignis’ palms – right up until his spine collides with Ignis’ bookcase and he’s loosely cradling both of Ignis’ hands in his own. A clear, unmistakable invitation.

And Ignis doesn’t stop in his tracks even then, still pressing forward anyway until he’s close enough for Prompto to see every little streak and fleck of his irises, until Prompto’s blood-pulses are thundering in his ears, until Prompto knows with complete certainty that _this is it_. Because it’s almost as if the world around them grinds to a halt with how Ignis leans in to kiss him without any hesitation, full and breathless and all that Prompto sees and feels, all that’s engulfing him whole, all that’s needed for Prompto to recognize that Ignis has definitely gotten the message. A clear, unmistakable answer.

There’s probably a finer art to this, though – something less sloppy than the mindless disarray of Ignis’ fingers instinctively fumbling to work Prompto’s button-up sleeveless top undone, or Prompto crumpling the fabric of Ignis’ shirt in a white-knuckled grip while licking into Ignis’ mouth; something less unruly than the hot, languid glide of Ignis’ tongue and teeth moving over to Prompto’s jawline and throat, or Prompto’s fingertips digging into the back of Ignis’ thigh to gracelessly yank him closer.

Except that everything about this feels _perfect_ , even in its messy urgency, to the point where Prompto doesn’t really give a damn about trying to make any of it smooth and masterful right now.

‘God, I wanna feel you,’ pours out of his own mouth before he can stop it, tremulous and eager, as unexpectedly freeing as though he’s just unclenched a tight fist and let every last reservation go.

To which Ignis immediately hooks a lean finger into Prompto’s belt loop, and tugs in indication. ‘Then will you let me …?’

Prompto can only nod through the fog of yearning in his brain, all possible words of agreement lost and jumbled amid the unraveling seams of his rapidly thinning patience and the flourishing heat of Ignis’ skin against his own – an intoxicating bloom of mounting anticipation and straight-up _elation_ , as flame-bright and exhilarating as it probably always is to live so dangerously in the moment.

The faint patter of rain against window glass and the solid wood of the bookshelves firmly pushed into his lower back barely even fade into the corner of his attention when there’s so much of everything else: of Ignis slowly sinking onto his knees while deftly thumbing both the button and zip of Prompto’s fly open, of every wet kiss and petal-soft lick that he presses and trails down the rigid line of Prompto’s now-exposed chest and stomach, of the warm, humid exhale that wisps and slithers into the dip of Prompto’s navel along the way. It sends the smoldering heat of every point of contact shooting right up into Prompto’s backbone like it’s electric, leaving his thighs shivering beyond his control; unsteady knees almost buckle from underneath him and he shudders out a broken whimper, burying blunt fingernails into the wiry muscle of Ignis’ upper arm as if it’s all he has left to keep his balance, keep himself tethered, keep himself together.

It’s pretty much only when his pants and underwear are being decidedly tugged down from his hips that it fully registers that _holy fuck, Ignis is for real about to suck him off right now_.

That and every other conscious thought flies out of his head almost straight away, though, what with the mild flutter and feather-light scrape of Ignis’ teeth against the delicately jutting bone running down along the taper of his pelvis, tantalizing enough to tense up his spine and send his short-circuiting mind basically haywire. But then those pliant lips and scorching breaths inch across to trace affectionate swirls into the tight nook right next to the base of his cock, which inadvertently ends up grazing Ignis’ warm cheek and jaw against its gradually swelling length like a modest prelude to what’s really coming – and all at once, Prompto’s nerve endings are suddenly far more awake, far more _sensitive_ than before and he can’t help but gasp from the overwhelming rush of it.

‘Didn’t realize you could be such a tease,’ he bites out accusingly, although he can’t quite manage to hide the brazen approval in his own voice.

‘Am I?’ Ignis says in reply, lifting a single eyebrow in a way that’s _so typically Ignis_ to the point where Prompto’s sure that Ignis has given him that look maybe a thousand times before; but right now, the clearly brimming intent behind it is making it hotter than anything he’s ever seen in his life. ‘Well, perhaps I shouldn’t keep you waiting.’

There’s isn’t even a heartbeat’s delay in Ignis delivering on that promise. Because in the next moment, his fingers are snugly curling around the base of Prompto’s shaft, and he’s planting a tiny fond kiss to the tip; the droplet of precome that’d beaded there idly catches in the seam of Ignis’ lips just before they move to part open, smearing the small smudge of wetness over the head as his mouth finally, finally sinks down and around Prompto in a long, velvety glide.

Prompto’s next breath cuts into his lungs like a jagged knife, rough and sharp.

‘Shit, Iggy, _god_ —’

It takes every last throb of his living pulse, every last ounce of his fraying self-control, to not just buck his hips into that lush, blazing heat – which would definitely be a bad idea when he thinks he isn’t going to last that long as it is. There’s almost no way, no chance; not when he’s practically shaking from the intensity of just this, hissing through his teeth and growing even fuller and harder inside Ignis’ mouth _before_ Ignis can so much as tighten that delicious pressure around him, indulgent and all-consuming. They’ve hardly started, and hell, Prompto knows he’s already doomed.

Taut fingers tangle into the soft wisps of Ignis’ hair and involuntarily tugs, which Prompto is immediately apologetic about for all of a single second before whatever guilty babble that’s about to leave his lips is cut off by a vibrating hum of gratification around his cock, as mellow and pretty as a song, as reverent and appreciative as a prayer. Ignis _likes_ it, he suddenly realizes with awe: an epiphany that has his pulse instantly jumping with excitement and his glazed-over eyes nearly seeing stars.

The wrecked, tattered noise that scratches out of his throat in reply quirks a tiny smile at the corners of Ignis’ mouth, all self-satisfied and sweet and handsome wrapped around his cock – which is almost frustrating to look at when it’s equal parts pleased but irresistibly sultry at the same time.

And he’d be more than happy to admire the sight of it forever.

Besides which, Ignis has every reason to grin, because _damn_ , it’s straight-up unfair just how incredible he feels. There isn’t any real thought or rhythm to the movement and glide of his mouth, but the firm, wet drags of his lips are already enough to have Prompto’s toes curling; Ignis pulls back momentarily, then, flicking his tongue against Prompto’s slit and trailing a drawn-out kiss down the protruding vein along Prompto’s shaft, before licking a single delectable stripe all the way back up the underside, letting his lips lightly snag on the head right as his mouth’s thoroughly engulfing Prompto again.

He doesn’t even break eye contact with Prompto in the meantime, bold and attentive and _dangerous_ in one fell swoop, which is more or less all it takes for Prompto to end up on the verge of losing his mind.

‘—Please,’ is the only thing he can manage to rasp out, bordering on incoherent. ‘God, I’m – your mouth is obscene.’

Ignis only gives another little pointed hum in response, the subtle tremor of it too warm and too good, and _fuck_ , Prompto really is going to come too fast if he keeps that up.

For now, he isn’t really capable of doing much more than to just scrabble to hold on to any part of Ignis that he can reach in a rigid-knuckled grip, what with the sensuous luxury of the suction surrounding him, working up and down his cock in undulating slides; he has to remind himself to breathe, in, out, a steady rise and fall not too unlike Ignis’ own motion and momentum, deep and grounding. A slight stutter in Ignis’ tempo unexpectedly manages to hook his attention before long, though, as if all the focus that Ignis has been giving him has somehow gotten the slightest bit divided, and he can suddenly tell in the hazy edges of his awareness that Ignis has pulled himself out with his free hand and is jerking himself off with no shortage of enthusiasm – which is just, _holy shit_.

Something in Prompto’s mind crumbles apart and snaps into place at the same time, just seeing it.

With that, he finally surges up against Ignis to start rocking into his mouth, a shift from their modest pace into sharp rolls of his hips that he’s sure is going to ache in Ignis’ jaw later – and maybe he would’ve tried to curb the scalding fire behind it if it weren’t for the look on Ignis’ face, creasing at the corners of his eyes, encouraging and pleading and exhilarated all at once. He’s passing the reins over to Prompto now, without a doubt; letting Prompto take this, take everything he wants, take _him_ without any hesitation or reserve, about which Prompto’s maybe more than a bit thrilled.

Even the thought of Ignis opening up and turning pliable in his hands is enough to pull him taut like a wire and he lets loose with a lot less guilt, fucking several shades harder into that rich, slippery heat and pushing himself deeper between Ignis’ lips in messy thrusts, coaxing a stunningly hoarse, filthy sound out of Ignis’ throat that thrums along Ignis’ teeth and all throughout the cavern of Ignis’ mouth to the point where Prompto knows with no degree of uncertainty that they’ll both feel the after-echoes of it for days.

‘— _Yes_ , Iggy, so good,’ he pants desperately, plummeting straight into ruin and welcoming it with open arms. Ignis rumbles out another rough groan in answer, holding Prompto’s gaze with a visible strain at the seams of his composure as if to say _come on, Prompto, come on_ , obviously keyed up and eager.

Both of Prompto’s hands press fast and flat into the sides and back of Ignis’ head to brace himself as his hips lift away from the stiff wood of the bookshelves, eyes falling shut and heart racing a mile a minute; and then, Ignis’ fingers are gripping a little tighter at the base of Prompto’s length and the mounting tension’s coiling with thicker, fiercer fever in Prompto’s belly and spine – and all it takes from there is for Ignis to fold even more sensitive pressure around the underside of Prompto’s cock with his silk-soft tongue for Prompto to finally come with a raw, shattering moan.

His thighs clench firm; pale white burns across his field of vision. It’s better than perfect, all slick and hot and more ecstasy than he can take without being ruthlessly stripped back layer by layer, down to the marrow of his bones and the tunnels of his veins, naked and unshielded and so, so _alive_. Ignis swallows everything like he’s starved for it, before pulling back and away once Prompto’s emptied himself completely, and with a few more rapid strokes of his other hand he’s suddenly coming too – breath shuddering and head tipping back in the kind of rapture that Prompto’s never seen on his face before, like all the years of self-imposed discipline have melted away to reveal only an inferno, sublime from every angle and more beautiful than Prompto can possibly express in words.

Then again, he isn’t exactly in much of a condition to say anything intelligible when he’s never felt this amazing in his life.

In the quiet dimness of the room, the mild drumming of the light rain against the windows fades into the serene open space around them again, mild and delicate and as tender as Prompto’s sweat-sticky skin feels all over right now. A residual streak of come trickles down one side of Ignis’ bottom lip; Prompto’s next inhale catches in his lungs as he watches Ignis swipe the pale wetness away with elegant knuckles and then lick it meticulously from his fingers like he wouldn’t waste a single drop. Something wells up unwittingly between Prompto’s ribs at that, and not for the first time, he can hardly suppress the incoming flood of warmth at knowing how lucky he really is.

‘… Mind if I return the favor?’ he asks through the pleasant haze; everything considered, he’s fully aware that Ignis has just gotten himself off and is seemingly content with that as it is. But even then, there’s a lingering, leftover stir in his gut that’s leaving him unashamedly wanting to appreciate Ignis in turn, to take it further still, to give Ignis _more_.

‘It’s perfectly alright,’ Ignis murmurs with gratitude, carefully taking his time to get back up onto his feet and pressing a damp kiss into the space right above Prompto’s ear. ‘I certainly didn’t do this for you with any ulterior motive of hoping to get anything in return. I just wanted you to feel good.’

‘Yeah, but I really wanna make you feel good too,’ Prompto points out, skating lean fingertips down over the dips of Ignis’ waist, sure and bold and honey-slow. ‘We don’t even have to do the same thing, if we wanna shake it up. Like, hey – how would you feel about me riding you for the rest of the night?’

A thin, clipped inhale and Ignis’ fingers inadvertently tightening its grip around Prompto’s elbows is enough for Prompto to be able to tell that Ignis is more than slightly interested in the idea.

Thrill kindles back to life in Prompto’s chest, and curls his lips upward at the corners.

It’s still drizzling in the dark outside when they’ve retreated to Ignis’ bed, when Prompto’s eagerly rocking himself on Ignis’ hips, when Ignis is curling tensed fingers into Prompto’s thighs and gasping out Prompto’s name through his teeth: the sweetest music to Prompto’s ears, drowning out all unnecessary hesitations and half-forgotten soulmate dilemmas, resonating deep enough in his blood to leave its own lasting mark – searing and _exquisite as hell_ and like nothing else in the world that he’ll ever really come to know.

* * *

When he finally stirs awake, it doesn’t immediately sink in that he’s still at Ignis’ apartment.

All he registers is a slow, drowsy ease. A steady heat pressed into his back. A faint trickle of early morning sunlight warming his collarbones, and the comforting weight of a wiry arm draped over his ribs.

He sags with relief into the soft blankets, and into the tangle of limbs wrapped around him. He could definitely get used to this.

But then he realizes where he is, and his eyes fly right open like he’s been altogether yanked out of any leftover sleep.

Because Ignis definitely _won’t_ be used to this; to Prompto being with him, to Prompto being around in general. And even after only having known each other for a few years, Prompto’s often noticed that Ignis has always been more the type to prefer scrupulous planning and gradual progress than to indulge in things spontaneously as they come.

Which is straight-up making Prompto squirm now, considering there’s no denying that they’d moved pretty fast in the heat of the moment last night. Would Ignis wake up and decide that this had all been too rushed? Would Ignis end up having second thoughts about Prompto being here?

Behind him, cozily curled up with his chest flush against Prompto’s back, Ignis doesn’t stir.

Suddenly, though, Prompto’s phone chimes with a message, and he feels almost guilty for the instant relief that the distraction brings; he props himself up on one elbow, reaching over to the nightstand and grabbing frantically at the phone with fumbling, jittery fingers.

_Meet in 20 minutes? I’m heading over to your place._

‘… Prompto?’ Ignis’ murmur comes unexpected, voice thick and heavy with an oncoming yawn. He must’ve been disturbed by the flurry of movement; Prompto swivels back to look at him, and can hardly press down the jolt of anxiety in his stomach when he sees Ignis’ face crumple into a dim, squinting, relatively disgruntled look. ‘What—’

‘—I, uh. Noct just texted asking to meet up.’ With that, Prompto doesn’t waste any time clambering out of the bed to quickly get dressed, the dread of whatever Ignis had just been about to say creeping cold across his ribs. Ignis actually sounds a bit prickly, and if he isn’t happy with Prompto right now for some reason, then sticking around longer than necessary is definitely a bad idea. ‘I gotta duck out, but, um. I’ll see you later. Sorry, Iggy.’

He doesn’t wait for Ignis to say anything else before he leaves, heartbeats pounding in his throat and a lingering disquiet in his chest.

* * *

The moment he arrives home, he doesn’t even need to strain himself to tell what Noctis is thinking.

Because not only is the flushed, awkward look on Noctis’ face obvious enough – but Prompto can also literally _feel_ Noctis’ embarrassment leaking through that familiar pulling sensation in his belly; suddenly, he’s all too aware of the pleasant soreness in his lower back and the residual phantom pressure of Ignis’ hipbones against his inner thighs, which instantly gets heat creeping into every part of his face, too.

‘Oh, god. You know, don’t you.’

‘How can I not.’ Noctis shifts a little where he’s sitting on the slightly rain-dampened porch steps, looking clearly like he’s on the edge of flustered.

‘Did you … uh. Did you actually feel—’

‘God, no! Not like that. But I vaguely picked up on other things, like … I dunno, this overall _euphoria_ or something, I guess? And some level of excitement that eventually peaked and then petered out. It literally couldn’t have been mistaken for anything else,’ Noctis replies, reaching back to idly rub at the nape of his neck. ‘I’m sure I’ll be able to learn to suppress it later so that I won’t have to be magically alerted every single time you guys … you know. Decide to bang, ugh. But either way, that’s not why I’m here – I mean, after I sensed all that stuff, you randomly did a full one-eighty and started freaking out this morning? What the hell happened.’

In all honesty, Prompto doesn’t even know how to answer that.

He tucks both of his hands behind his back, shuffling his feet against the rough concrete footpath.

‘ _Prompto_.’

‘I got scared,’ he blurts out in confession, and the words are new to the nooks and corners of his mouth even if they aren’t new to the deep of his gut. ‘I made such a huge stupid deal of the soulmate thing, and Iggy’s been so patient with me all this time while I’ve been trying to get my shit together, but then when I woke up it got into my head that he might think I’m carelessly jumping the gun or whatever, and that he might be sort of starting to lose patience with me as a whole. Of course I wanna do right by him, but at the same time, I – uh. I really don’t know if I can face him getting fed up with me. When I got your text, I ran like a coward.’

Noctis peers at him in response, eyes squinting into wrinkled, narrow slits.

‘Dude, he’s not fed up with you. He’s not tired of you, or losing patience with you. I’d one hundred percent guarantee it even if Gladio hadn’t told me what he’d felt from Specs last night.’

‘Great,’ Prompto groans, dragging a hand over his face in dismay. He’d almost forgotten that Gladiolus would’ve known what he and Ignis had been up to yesterday, too.

‘Relax. Like, it’s obviously Gladio’s job to escort me everywhere, but before you got here, I told him to go walk around the block and give us a few minutes. No doubt he’s gonna make fun of you when he gets back, but you’ve got plenty of time to brace yourself before then.’ Noctis pointedly raises an eyebrow at that. ‘But anyway, how long have you and Specs been into each other now? If you ask me, I personally don’t think you’re jumping the gun or rushing into things at all. Things between you two have always kinda been heading in this direction for a while, even before you guys realized it, right? That’s as gradual as gradual gets. And hell, even if you _do_ feel like you’re taking things a little fast, then you can just slow down and approach it with baby steps starting from here. You guys have got all the time in the world.’

Noctis’ shoulders set firm, his voice steady and sure like his words can’t possibly have more hard truth to them than they already do.

Really, in the end, Noctis definitely isn’t wrong about that. Admittedly, there’d been no particular indication that Ignis had felt, or would feel, anything less than affection and _want_ for Prompto before Prompto’s own anxiety had gotten the better of him half an hour ago. And if there’s anyone close enough to both him and Ignis to notice anything wrong, it’d totally be Noctis, without question; Noctis, his best friend, who absolutely didn’t have to come all the way to his house to reassure him about all of this, but did anyway without any hesitation or complaint whatsoever.

A ripple of appreciation wells up in Prompto’s throat; he can’t possibly be more grateful to have Noctis here with him right now.

‘… I’m glad you’re my soulmate, you know,’ he murmurs, his next exhale pouring in a shudder from his lips. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t happy about it in the beginning. That wasn’t fair to you.’

‘Nah, I get it. You had it kinda rough as a kid, but then you thought you were gonna get a fairytale romance that’d turn everything around, complete with real magic and everything. And things didn’t end up exactly as you expected,’ Noctis shrugs, nibbling on his lower lip for a moment in thought. ‘But hey, everything’s gonna be okay, yeah? Pretty sure you’ve gotta be aware by now that no matter what the universe gives you, it’s your _choice_ that matters. In the big picture, it’s completely possible for soulmates to be more like … kindred spirits, or tightly bonded brothers, rather than your one true love or whatever. Someone who could turn out to be the best man, rather than the groom. Someone who’ll always be connected to you even if they don’t end up being the one that you wanna spend the rest of your life with. And yeah, you can totally be drawn to someone other than that person and still find yourself happier than ever. Because your life is up to what you want, at the end of the day.’

Prompto nods at that, accepting; he swallows, trying to keep his emotions from rising up past his chest.

‘I always found it funny,’ he says offhandedly, ‘how things feel so different with you and Iggy. I always get that weird pull in my tummy with you. But with Iggy, even though we’re not soulmates at all, I get it in my chest.’

‘That’s you _liking him_ , dummy. There’s nothing magical about that at all, in a literal sense. That pull that you have in your stomach with me is the only tie that has actual, real god-given magic behind it. Your own gross sappy feelings, though? That’s all organic. It didn’t come from the heavens, dude, it came from you.’

An explanation that, in hindsight, makes a painfully stupid amount of sense, and Prompto doesn’t know how he’d never actually come to his senses about that before now.

Just thinking about it shakes a soft, breathy laugh out of his chest.

‘… Okay, fine, I trust you on that. And on Iggy’s feelings about everything, too. I guess I might’ve been overreacting and reading too much into stuff, huh? I’m gonna have to go fix things with him later.’

‘Mmm. You do that, buddy.’

They settle into a quiet and understanding ease before long, with faint, barely-there smiles tugging at both their mouths.

‘—Yo,’ Gladio’s approaching voice cuts into the silence from down the road; he’s got a hand lifted in greeting when Prompto twists around to look at him, clearly giving off a leisurely air like he’s in a laid-back, carefree mood. ‘Congrats on finally boning. About time.’

‘Oh my god,’ Prompto whines in mortification. He immediately makes his way up the porch steps past Noctis, who isn’t even trying to hide his shivering laughter. ‘Yeah, I’m outta here. And you guys are _totally_ not invited in. Bye.’

His heart feels lighter than ever, though – calm and steady, brimming with hope – as he moves to wave his friends goodbye and close the front door behind him.

* * *

Eyes mostly trained on the ground, Ignis doesn’t even really see him until they’re about ten steps apart.

It’s kind of strange, in a way, how they’ve sort of been through this before – except that Ignis is coming up instead of down the Citadel stairway now, undoubtedly to head into work for the morning. The last time they’d talked here, there’d been a vaguely awkward air to start off with, too; Prompto rubs his own wrist, then, immediately filled with guilt and regret before he can help it. Everything considered, he’s definitely far from willing to allow any more slip-ups to happen that could potentially lead to this sort of miscommunication again after today.

Ignis stops in his tracks, obviously expectant, but doesn’t say anything.

‘… Sorry I ran out on you the other day,’ Prompto speaks up, simple and sincere. His fingers twist into the hem of his own shirt, knuckles tensed with a little nervous shame. ‘I’m not gonna make excuses for myself. I _did_ get a text from Noct that morning asking to meet up, but I’ll admit that I totally used it as an opportunity to bolt because I was irrationally freaking out. And I one hundred percent own that.’

Ignis’ face doesn’t seem to change at all, staying mostly unreadable.

‘Well. What scared you, exactly?’

‘The thought that that might’ve been a one-time thing that’d never happen again.’ Just saying it out loud is enough to get the distinct pull in Prompto’s chest aching, to flare up the dull soreness in the gaps between his ribs. ‘The thought that you might think I was a disaster who wasn’t really worth the energy to keep trying for anymore. And yeah, like – I would’ve made things worse for myself if that were the case, because running out basically makes that point pretty valid, huh? But then again, I was being a dumbass and not really using my head at the time.’

‘Come now, I’d have you say no such things to belittle yourself,’ Ignis says patiently, thin eyebrows furrowing. ‘I must ask, though, what on earth could’ve possibly given you the impression that I felt that way?’

‘Nothing, honestly. Just my self-conscious brain not being nice to me, I think. But I guess … you also looked annoyed when you woke up? I mean, I was already in the middle of having a meltdown so seeing that freaked me out even more.’

‘I was perhaps a little huffy for the better part of _a second_. For having my weekend sleep interrupted. But my displeasure of the general situation does not equal a displeasure toward you. I do apologize – my irritable morning face certainly does not mean that you aren’t worth making an effort for, or that I was intending to stop seeing you.’

Prompto’s eyes widen at that, his heart abruptly skipping a beat in his chest.

‘Would … you wanna keep seeing me?’

‘I would,’ Ignis says outright, gaze slowly softening, the taut lines of his face gradually going slack. ‘That might prove to be rather difficult, though, if you make a habit of running away.’

‘I won’t. Not ever. This has been one hell of a lesson and I have _zero_ intention of running again.’ Prompto’s chin lifts, jaw hardening with conviction. He straightens his spine, stares Ignis directly in the eye. ‘I don’t know a lot of things. I don’t know how people make relationships work outside of a soul bond … I don’t know how people make relationships work, _period_. But I do know that I like you – for real, I like you _so much_ and I straight-up don’t want anybody but you, y’know? Admittedly I’d be doing a lot of clueless groping in the dark to make us work, but either way, the point is that I wanna put in the effort to try.’

Something between them releases, all of a sudden. Like an unclenching fist. Like the first exhale and inhale after a long-held breath.

Out of nowhere, the pull in Prompto’s chest runs strangely warm, and it’s maybe as warm as the look starting to bloom across Ignis’ face.

‘… As do I,’ Ignis replies, earnest and heartfelt. ‘So yes, let’s try.’

How comforting it is, Prompto thinks, that real life isn’t like the movies and that there’s nothing theatrical or ingenuine about this. Nothing melodramatic or pretentious about the straightforward way that they’ve just managed to fit their two puzzle pieces together; no running toward each other, no colliding into each other, no desperate sentiments given to each other in an overblown and exaggerated way. Just raw, simple relief and happiness as Prompto sweeps down the few remaining steps between them and kisses Ignis with a with a sunny laugh bubbling from his lips all at the same time – and even in the open daylight with a smattering of people milling by them on the great stairway, there isn’t a single sliver of hesitation or shame on Ignis’ part when he kisses Prompto back.

No reserve. No regrets.

And just like that, Prompto’s left happy enough to crave absolutely nothing more.

* * *

Compared to the sting of the loss in his bones, the last ten years in the dark have almost been a breeze.

‘… What is it like?’

‘Like the string between our tin can telephones just got snipped. Or maybe like the wall of glass between us just fogged up and clouded itself over, or something,’ Prompto says, keeping his quivering voice as even and level as he’s able to. ‘As in – I know that some part of him exists on the other side, technically speaking, in a totally different plane. But I can’t really feel him anymore.’

Truth be told, it’s at least not as painful as he’d come to expect.

 _Someone who’ll always be connected to you even if they don’t end up being the one that you wanna spend the rest of your life with_ , Noctis had told him nearly twelve years back. And that connection had already been dulled enough during the full decade that Noctis had been in the Crystal; now, there’s only a phantom pressure left behind in Prompto’s belly like something that’d been there for a long time is now gone – but never forgotten.

In just the last half-hour alone, the little cross-mark on his wrist has managed to fade without disappearing entirely. And he knows he’s not about to forget the feeling of that distinct magical tug between them anytime soon, if at all.

Ignis wraps a comforting arm around his shoulders, and gently squeezes. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Hey, no need to focus on me. Not when he’d, like, meant _this much_ to literally all of us. Including you.’ Prompto snakes his own arm around Ignis’ waist in turn, cozy and secure. ‘Give me some time and I’ll definitely be okay. I promise. Plus, it’ll be a cool story to tell the next generation of kids, right? My soulmate gave up everything to save the damn world.’

‘Noct would probably get a kick out of you telling them all the funny stories about him that you’ve got under your belt too,’ Gladiolus chimes in with interest from where he’s standing on Ignis’ other side.

‘Oh, believe me,’ Prompto replies, easygoing and insistent. ‘I plan on it.’

It’s almost surreal, being back at the Citadel with Ignis after so many years away; back when they’d had their first kiss on this very same stairway, it’d been the break of dawn, too. Ignis pulls in a long breath next to him, then, as if he’s overcome with awe, and Prompto’s somehow able to tell just from that that Ignis can actually sense the sun rising for the first time in a decade even with his eyesight long gone.

‘… Hey – not to be sappy or anything, but I’m glad we decided to try to make us work back then. I’m glad we ended up okay. I’m glad that I’ve still got you after all this, and that we’re gonna share a hell of a lot of, like, sunny days and stuff together from here on out. Anyway, I’m just glad.’ The sentiment leaves Prompto’s mouth so suddenly that Ignis actually turns his head toward him in surprise, which Prompto can’t help using as an opportunity to lean in for a tiny, chaste kiss. ‘I’m the luckiest guy in the world, you know?’

He shifts a little to lay his head on Ignis’ shoulder after that; it isn’t long before Ignis is tilting his own head to press his cheek against the crown of Prompto’s hair, too.

‘That’s my line.’

As far as Prompto knows, there’s no telling what’s waiting ahead of them. Not by a long shot. For the most part, all he’s really got within reach are the lessons that he’d learned forever ago about living his life by taking whatever path he _wants_.

And in the end, his choice is right here next to him. Always has been. Always will be.

Prompto smiles through the ache in his beating heart, and curls up into Ignis even more.

They’re going to be just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you liked the main story! I'm a big softie who can only ever give these boys a happy ending :') I'd love to know what you think, if you can spare a minute or two of your time.
> 
> Be sure to click ahead and keep reading for a bonus fun chapter (featuring Noct and Gladio being able to sense far more from Prompto and Ignis during their rainy night together than they'd prefer to, haha).
> 
> And come chat about promnis with me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/silverxharmony/status/1273984975004549120) or [Tumblr](https://harmonization.tumblr.com/post/621361856269975553/%22) ♥


	2. his wrist, your heart - bonus chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Noctis and Gladiolus can sense Prompto and Ignis doing things they'd actually rather not know about during one particular rainy night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't fit this into the main story (this is a little more humorous in tone than the main story, and it's also in Noctis' point of view instead of Prompto's) but this concept was absolutely begging to be written, so I couldn't resist putting it into a bonus chapter lol. Hope you guys enjoy the fun addition!

‘… Something up?’

‘No.’ Noctis’ answer is quick to fly out of his mouth, although he isn’t particularly able to stop himself from frowning at the same time. ‘Nothing urgent, anyway. At least, I don’t think it is.’

Gladiolus peers at him from across the dining table, tipping his dew-flecked beer bottle up to his lips and drawing in a long, pointed sip like he _knows_ there’s more to it than just that.

‘Alright, fine. I think Prompto’s worked up about something right now,’ Noctis finally admits with a full-chested sigh, and funnels his attention to the strange restlessness jumbling and twisting itself erratically in his belly – a somewhat distant agitation that he can feel with as much clarity as if it were his own, but knows distinctly that it isn’t. ‘He seems … I dunno. On edge, I think. Kinda antsy and wired. No idea what that’s all about.’

‘Probably tying himself in knots over Iggy again, which wouldn’t be anything new.’ Gladiolus’ brow furrows for a moment, before he purposefully gestures at the lettered tiles laid out between them with a tilt of his chin. ‘C’mon, it’s your turn.’

Noctis rolls his eyes, and casually sets down an M, A, and T alongside a free E on the board without any real or significant amount of thought. _Mate_.

Everything considered, a two-player round of Scrabble isn’t necessarily his number one preferred way to spend a quiet, rainy evening; he’d be more inclined to indulge in video games or movies most of the time. But Gladiolus has always made for pretty good company, and he’d happily take this over spending any of his nights alone, so putting up with Gladiolus’ occasional snark admittedly isn’t too bad, at the end of the day. In all honesty, having his best friend around as well would’ve made things around here even livelier, really – although it’s obvious that Prompto’s probably busy dealing with his own troubles right now, as far as he can tell.

Gladiolus manages to put together the word _amorous_ after that, dark eyes shimmering with a visible amount of glee even when he’s silent and unsmiling, almost as though he’s just brandished some kind of secret weapon. Noctis sniffs idly in response; all of the cheesy romance literature that Gladiolus has so consistently and unexpectedly been fond of consuming may have just proven to be good for something, after all.

‘… I kind of wonder if he’s actually gonna make a move, you know.’ Sweeping a focused gaze over his newest tiles, Noctis quickly finds – to his satisfaction – that he’s effectively equipped to make the word _itch_ for his next turn, which isn’t exactly as impressive, but definitely still counts as a decent play in all respects. ‘There’s like, nothing else he needs to wait for that I can see, but _man_ is he set on making things harder for himself.’

‘I more or less told him the same thing on movie night,’ Gladiolus says coolly, plucking a salted peanut out of one of the nearby snack bowls and popping it absentmindedly into his mouth. ‘And it’s not like things are any better on Iggy’s end. All that tension’s thick enough to cut with a knife.’

‘Tell me about it,’ Noctis snorts in agreement, wrinkling his nose. ‘I can feel—’

He barely manages to finish the sentiment before it’s cut off by a sudden spike of heat flaring in his gut.

It comes so unexpectedly that whatever he’s about to say next gets caught and tangled on his tongue, jumbling his composure enough to the point where none of it ends up leaving his mouth at all. One moment, there’d been a degree of tension from Prompto’s end of their soulmate connection that Noctis had easily been able to identify as some kind of strained unrest, and then the next, it’d been replaced by a mysterious blaze of ignited thrill more or less entirely out of nowhere; the sensation of overwhelming relief accompanying it gushes in so clearly that it’s nearly palpable, almost like being able to breathe for the first time all over again, or like a dam somewhere had just burst.

There’s no clear indication of what’s even caused it that he can tell – until he glances over and notices that Gladiolus has also, for whatever reason, gone similarly quiet.

And then a creeping suspicion worms its way into his stomach, inching in little by little like a looming dread, because Gladiolus looks just as abruptly stunned and speechless as he himself is currently feeling right now, which probably means that he’s sensing something too and that Ignis is somehow involved.

The irrepressible stir burns heady, upbeat, _electric_ in a way that Noctis has never felt at all from Prompto before.

‘… Anyway, so, uh,’ he flounders briefly in a vague attempt to just ignore all of it. ‘What did you end up doing today?’

Gladiolus shifts a little uncomfortably in his seat, seeming somewhat distracted, but he lets out a miniscule cough after a moment and sets his jaw firm. ‘C’mon, I’ve been here for over an hour and you’re just now asking me about my day?’ he stares Noctis in the eye with a dull look, obviously seeing right through the forced small talk. ‘I mean, if you really wanna know, Iris dragged me out for the whole afternoon while you were in that trade meeting. She wanted to splurge on some new clothes and, no surprise, she apparently figured that she was gonna need a pack mule to carry everything.’

‘Hey, she’s pretty lucky to have such a good big bro.’ For whatever reason, the second-hand heat in Noctis’ belly is starting to radiate far enough that it’s practically clambering up his spine now, and he clamps his knees tightly together, willing it to ebb away. ‘And you gotta admit your muscles do tend to come in pretty handy.’

‘… Are you saying you like me for my body.’

‘Nothing wrong with appreciating someone’s body, is there.’ Noctis lets out a breathy slip of a laugh, friendly and good-natured. Something about his own words are niggling in his ears, though, even when he’d intended it in a harmless, joking way. ‘For real, it’s—’

Out of the blue, he’s unexpectedly slammed into by a scorching wave of what can only be described as absolute _ecstasy_ , and a cutting gasp of surprise heaves his chest, rough and sharp.

He knows it’s Prompto’s emotions that he’s feeling, but it’s startlingly fierce: a steady throb that’d suddenly turned itself up ten notches and slid into a full-blown fever, strong enough to have him almost jumping out of his skin, prominent enough for him to _know_ that it’s well outside of Prompto’s usual realm of distant longing. Excitement, relish and indulgence pulls at the connecting soul-threads in his stomach all at once until it starts to stretch him thin, and he has to curl a white-knuckled grip around the edge of his chair with one hand to steady himself, gritting his teeth and fumbling to keep his own breathing steady, _in_ , _out_ , _in_ , _out_.

It’s only when his gaze unwittingly slides over to Gladiolus’ face, which has since sagged into a dead-eyed look of realization – blank pupils clouding over and jaw hanging open a touch – that it slowly dawns on him too.

Oh, _no_.

In all honesty, he’s always been pretty partial to the idea of being magically linked to his best friend and for both of them to be soundly in tune with each other’s feelings, but … not like this. Not when Prompto and Ignis are undoubtedly in the middle of having sex. _Oh god_ , they’re having sex, and both Noctis and Gladiolus are getting a front-row seat to the fire and the hunger and the fervor without being able to do anything about it beyond just sitting here and passively taking every second of it. For a split second, he almost wants to scramble for his phone to look up a quick solution, but he can barely even move a muscle or keep his head on straight right now, let alone dig up or absorb any meaningful information.

Besides, what would he even search for? _How to block out your soulmate’s horny enthusiasm while they’re busy somewhere getting laid_?

If anything, he’s glad that at least he’s not suffering through this on his own.

‘Anyway, are—’ he scrapes out, abandoning the previous line of conversation completely; he can hardly even remember what they’d been talking about just before this. ‘—Are you waiting for something, ‘cause it’s actually your turn now.’

Gladiolus throws him a vacant, slack-mouthed stare like he’d forgotten that they were even in the middle of a game, before half-absentmindedly flicking his eyes down to his tiles without really looking at them.

After what seems like forever, he sets down the word _butt_ , and it’s so laughably far from the profound poeticism of his previous offering that Noctis has no idea how to respond.

Steeling himself, he tries to focus on his next turn instead. Sure, both of his soul bonds had only just activated within the last few months so he knows he’s too inexperienced with them to know how to shut the door on his connection to Prompto temporarily, but at this point he’s more than willing to at least try to smother it by concentrating on something else. Like Scrabble.

He has to hope to all the Astrals that Lunafreya’s too preoccupied with something, _anything_ , to sense any of his internal screaming through their separate soul link right now.

‘Right,’ he says to nobody in particular, squaring his shoulders and taking a moment to let the soft drumming of the rain outside stitch itself into his senses – a gentle, grounding anchor. Pointedly ignoring the undeniable scraps of gratification dripping through the soul-connection, he hovers his fingers over his new set of tiles while peering narrowly at them, glaring hard enough to burn holes through the entire table; how on earth had it gotten this difficult to pay attention to what he’s doing? He can’t help but wonder when, exactly, his eyes had glazed over and when the bold letters had started blurring together into a faded smudge, because he’s sure that he hadn’t been this much of a hopeless disaster a few minutes ago.

There’s an A and E among his current tiles, both of which are really flexible vowels as far as he’s concerned – definitely a useful thing. On the upper left of the board, he can make the word _heat_. Around the middle of the board, he can put together the word _ache_. Near the bottom of the board, he can spell out the word _ride_.

And he doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry over the fact that his own brain’s betrayed him to this extent, because he straight-up can’t think of any other alternative that isn’t glaringly suggestive.

A jolt of eager yearning shoots up his spine, then, and he yelps before he can stop himself, slamming his hand right into the middle of the nearest snack bowl and sending mixed nuts flying; across the table from him, Gladiolus actually jumps in his seat, wide-eyed and bewildered. Without any more than an unintelligible, garbled apology, Noctis immediately leans forward to clean up everything that’s now scattered alongside the bowl – an almond here, a cashew there, a hazelnut further over – in a mess of nuts that he distantly alternates between dropping back into the bowl and sticking into his mouth just to give his restless hands and gnashing teeth something to do. Nuts everywhere. So many nuts. _Holy heavens, please stop thinking about nuts_.

This whole chill night in may have been a terrible idea.

‘… How long are you gonna take,’ Gladiolus blurts out once Noctis is done, jaw clenching; he looks tense and on edge, most likely from being left helplessly idle and inactive.

‘Will you stop breathing down my neck, I’m _thinking_.’

The reply comes out with a little more bite than Noctis had intended, but hell, he isn’t particularly in any mood to bend to Gladiolus’ inner crisis when he’s in just as bad of a situation himself right now. Gladiolus seems to get the message, though, clawing a taut-fingered hand right through the snack bowl and rigidly stuffing a fistful of at least twenty nuts right into his own face, most likely to keep himself in check. _Whatever works_ , Noctis thinks dimly.

Even though Noctis knows that the room itself hasn’t changed in temperature at all, it suddenly feels too warm for his comfort; the keen tension’s starting to build relatively fast in his gut, and he has to unbutton the top of his pajama shirt to air out the heat at his collarbones while squirming a little uneasily in his chair. Prompto’s evidently too far gone and Noctis realizes, to his horror, that he’s potentially going to be treated to every blow-by-blow detail of his best friend peaking and _Astrals in heaven_ , this is the absolute worst. If he can’t divert his focus away from his soul bond now, he’s in trouble for sure.

So back to Scrabble it is: what good, solid word can he possibly use that A and E for?

And then it hits him.

‘Got it!’ he says with triumph, tossing the relevant tiles down in place to form the word _cream_. ‘There!’

To which Gladiolus answers nothing beyond throwing him a long, blunt, purposeful stare.

‘—No, wait!’ he yells suddenly, realizing all too late what he’d just done, and that Gladiolus probably thinks he’s a pervert now who’s actually getting off on this. ‘I didn’t realize—’

But he doesn’t even get to finish before the delirious rapture at the other end of his soul link finally skyrockets, and then crests.

It’s strange, in some ways, how he isn’t really feeling anything, but is feeling _everything_ at the same time. How there’s no physical detail in these sensations, but more overwhelming emotion than he knows what to do with – an endless ocean of exhilaration and intoxicating passion and _release_ , a secret written diary page of in-depth bliss, a striking painted picture of exquisite paradise. Opposite him, Gladiolus visibly breaks into a sweat and flushes beet red, biting down hard on his lip and clutching firmly at his own elbow like it’s his last remaining lifeline; Ignis must’ve just reached the ultimate height of this too, and Noctis’ blood drains right out of his face just from thinking about it. Because if anything, he really, _really_ doesn’t want to think about it.

Then everything slowly wanes, winds down, fades away into little more than an unmistakable soft wisp of adoration as if there’d never been any scorching excitement at all.

For a moment, they both sit together in complete silence. Gladiolus breathes so deeply, loudly, that he nearly sounds winded; Noctis curls his fingers so tightly into a fist that the curved nails digging into his skin almost hurt. And all in all, that’s it. Just the two of them, the quiet drizzle out in the dark beyond the window glass, and the stagnant air and empty space of Noctis’ apartment surrounding them on every side.

After a while, Noctis clears his throat, and rakes his fingers somewhat awkwardly through his hair.

‘… Well,’ he rasps out, voice coming out scratchy and small and teetering on the edge of shy embarrassment. ‘Looks like he made a move, after all.’

Gladiolus rolls his eyes and shakes his head in disbelief and surrender, clearly left speechless, but with the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth like he’s simultaneously minutes away from being unable to stop himself from talking about this all night long.

And just like that, Noctis starts to relax, a thin huff of laughter escaping from his lips and his limbs sagging back into his seat with as much satisfaction and relief as he’s sensing from Prompto right now.

Everything’s good. Everything’s fine.

No matter what happens from this point on, he knows that Prompto’s going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah okay, I have a habit of making these boys suffer, but I love them, really. XD
> 
> Please click through to the next chapter for one last bonus side story! And come chat about promnis with me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/silverxharmony/status/1273984975004549120) or [Tumblr](https://harmonization.tumblr.com/post/621361856269975553/%22) anytime ♥


	3. his wrist, your heart - bonus side story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which trust is a valuable exercise.
> 
> (Featuring daggers and knives being thrown from one soulmate to another throughout the years - no, really).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's the thing, right: I wrote the piece below a long time ago for the [FFXV Celebration Zine](https://twitter.com/ffxvcelebration) (originally under the name _arrows to strike the apple_ ) and never posted it to Ao3 because I always had this weird niggling feeling that it really belonged to - and was part of - a much bigger story.
> 
> It just struck me all of a sudden the other day, completely out of the blue, that _this_ was that story.
> 
> I've now re-edited it slightly from what it originally was in order for it to fit with the overarching soulmate plotline (as well as the promnis relationship developed in the main story), so here you go - a very brief window into Ignis' and Gladiolus' platonic friendship and how trust serves as a challenging lesson for them. I'd given the Prompto & Noctis friendship so much attention in the main part of this soulmate AU that it felt right to post these two and their side of things as well.
> 
> This one is in Ignis' point of view, so please be forewarned of another shift in tone (from the previous two instalments I posted, which were in Prompto's and Noctis' points of view respectively); this one's a little more serious and weighty. As always, I hope you enjoy :)
> 
> P.S.: The mini-artwork for this side story is drawn by the lovely [beanclam](https://twitter.com/beanclam/status/1156761964011380736), who partnered with me for the Celebration Zine - please be sure to give her some love!

‘Throw it at me.’

A pristine and straightforward instruction, but it’s met at once with a resounding pause.

‘… _Throw it_ at you,’ Gladiolus repeats frankly, mild incredulity creeping along the fringes of his voice.

Ignis tuts, a trimmed click of his tongue that speaks volumes of emphasized meaning rather than any actual annoyance, and raises an eyebrow pointedly over the dark upper rim of his spectacles. ‘Yes, you heard me correctly. I’m sure you’ve figured out for yourself that I’m essentially running an exercise in trust. I trust you with this. Do you trust me?’

It’s a multi-layered question, ripe with both challenge and earnest vulnerability, and they both know it; hearing it, Gladiolus responds with a hum of gradual understanding, visibly easing up to a degree and seeming somewhat less concerned than before. At the end of the day, neither of them have ever held back when they’re in the belly of the training halls – sentiments and emotions have never been exempt from that.

Within the blink of an eye, a dagger’s slicing through the air and hurtling straight toward Ignis’ face.

A perfect answer. Something nestled in the deep of Ignis’ chest cavity takes flight and soars, too, at the sight.

The nerves of Ignis’ fingers know this tune as if they’ve cradled blades in their crooks for all eighteen years of his life. The dagger slips just a little as he catches it; but _he catches it_. The tip has nicked his thumb somewhere along the way, though it’s hardly enough to be a nuisance.

It sits solid and weighty in the circle of his palm, a cool comfort against the roughened calluses of his skin.

Everything around him refocuses and shifts back to the sturdy floor beneath his feet, to simply the two of them facing one another, to the faraway roof and the vast space between the walls and nothing more. They stand a room apart, thick breaths billowing into the wide open silence.

Magically connected or not, their spars and training sessions have never been any less than exhilarating.

‘… No pun intended, but don’t think I didn’t catch that,’ says Gladiolus slowly, although the subtle amusement in his gaze still paints an unmistakable picture of respect, too, the tiny gash on Ignis’ hand notwithstanding; he walks over, obviously impressed. ‘You ain’t foolin’ anyone with that poker face, you know. No shame in still being a little green.’

‘I suppose not,’ Ignis agrees, one corner of his mouth quirking upward into a half-smile – Gladiolus has always been able to read him remarkably well, even long before they’d found the matching soulmarks on their collarbones. ‘No one can truly be perfectly polished and proper at all times.’

All in all, Gladiolus trusts him back, and that’s what matters.

Gladiolus’ skin is reassuringly warm when he nudges a fist against Ignis’ shoulder in friendly appreciation, and warmer still when he then grabs at Ignis’ hand all devil-may-care in an unspoken offer to inspect the cut.

* * *

‘Hey, Iggy. Heads up.’

Ignis lifts his eyes, and that single second is really all he needs to reorient his own bearings and the hidden electrical pulses in the muscles of his fingers, before he plucks the cooking knife that’s been tossed his way out of the air; with the way that Prompto suddenly shrieks at his side, it’s a miracle that he doesn’t fumble with it out of pure surprise.

‘Dude, are you _kidding me_ ,’ Prompto heaves almost breathlessly, tense fingertips curled into his own chest with clear astonishment and near-shock. ‘That could’ve gone so badly. You don’t just _throw_ sharp things like that!’

‘Not to just anyone, no,’ Gladiolus replies in an even tone, unbothered, and proceeds to move back to rifling through the piles of gear scattered messily all across the brittle earth and dry gravel of the campsite. ‘But Iggy can take it. I’ve pretty much given him years of practice, so it’s fine. Any of you remember where we packed the tent pegs?’

Prompto splutters, scandalized, and swivels to Noctis’ direction in an evident attempt for validation; some short distance from the Regalia, Noctis only shrugs in response, the sleeping bags he’s shouldered swaying with the movement.

A temperate sigh leaves Ignis’ lips.

‘… It’s perfectly alright, Prompto,’ he reassures kindly, laying two light, affectionate strokes to the ridge of Prompto’s back. ‘I’ve grown well-accustomed to Gladio – and vice versa – where this sort of matter is concerned, so I promise there’s no danger at all. Now, would you mind fetching me the vegetable box? If I start now, I can finish this curry before the rest of you are done unpacking.’

‘Geez. You’re pretty badass, Iggy,’ Prompto says with respectful surrender, murmuring something that sounds suspiciously like _soulmate sorcery_ under his breath before shuffling away in compliance.

‘Hardly,’ answers Ignis in mild amusement, more to himself than anything. ‘Trust merely showcases itself best when it goes both ways.’

He wholeheartedly appreciates the way Gladiolus is glancing over at him right now, silent approval and earnest support flickering in the moisture of his eyes, subtle but clear enough for Ignis to feel that friendly warmth all the way to the tips of his toes.

His curry turns out exceptionally superb that day in a way he hadn’t even actively intended.

* * *

In all honesty, the words had stung.

‘You’re still mad at me, huh.’

It’s almost ironic to be grateful for even the minutest portion of a second that he’s not able to see anything at all, just because he doesn’t want to look at Gladiolus right now. Ignis is well aware of how inappropriately petty that feeling is; he pulls in a thin breath, shakes that unpleasant sentiment off his shoulders, pivots on his heels to face away.

He’s not mad at Gladiolus. Not really. Not when Gladiolus’ only crime had been to express the uglier side of an honest truth that Ignis hadn’t wanted to face.

_I object. War is a matter of life and death._

‘… Okay, look. I’m not gonna bullshit you. I meant it the way you think, and given that we’ve both got duties to Noct that we have to put above everything else, you probably understand why I said what I said, deep down.’ There’s an edge to Gladiolus’ voice, a tremor of unrest; Ignis can feel it like an itch underneath his own skin, a disquiet crawling over the nerves of his spine. ‘I’m sorry that things turned out like this. And I’m sorry that I ended up saying what I said – but I’m also _not_. ‘Cause it’s true that we can’t afford to have anything slow us down in this war, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t give a damn about you.’

‘Noct ultimately gave me a chance. Prompto stood up for me against you,’ Ignis shoots back, tired and bitter. ‘However you may have meant it, I don’t know how I’m supposed to have taken it in any way other than that your trust in me was lost together with my eyesight.’

Gladiolus sucks in a sharp breath, sounding dimly surprised. The faint hint of satisfaction that prickles in Ignis’ gut at that reaction doesn’t last even a fraction of a moment.

‘C’mon, Iggy, that’s not fair.’

A whisper of wet heat ripples and rises behind Ignis’ ruined eyes, sharp as thorns. He blinks it back furiously.

 _It’s not about us looking out for him_.

‘With all due respect, Gladio,’ Ignis says with miraculous patience, ‘I’m in no mood to hear _anyone_ complain about things being unfair.’

The sudden quiet that follows that is no less than haunting.

Slivers of evening air chill the back of Ignis’ neck; he shivers. Folds his arms around himself to stave off more than just the nighttime cold.

Eventually, the silence gives way to Gladiolus spilling out a slow sigh.

‘… I’ll give you that. And I get you. Really. I’d feel the same way as you right now, if I were you.’

Ignis sniffs in response, though not dismissively.

A crunch of a boot-tread on gravel; then another, then another. Gradual, measured footfalls draw closer and closer; in no time, familiar warm fingers are curling tight around Ignis’ bicep. A steadfast anchor.

‘I trust you, okay? Always have, always will. Whether it seems that way or not,’ Gladiolus declares, his voice firm with evident belief in his own words. ‘It’s not like I can help wanting you out of harm’s way. But I know you’ve made your choice, and if you’re gonna stick with us, then I’m gonna do whatever I can to keep having your back. You can count on that.’

The affirmation is stone-sturdy and unswerving, and even without paying much attention to the staunch pull of the soul-bond in his stomach, Ignis knows full well at that point that Gladiolus means it.

Hard teeth bite into the cushion of his cheek.

‘… Iggy,’ Gladiolus says slowly, and there’s a marked shift in his tone; something oddly delicate, something unusually vulnerable. ‘The first night we got you back … I was really scared for you.’

_There’s more to it than just what he wants._

Ignis’ next exhale rattles his lungs, quivers as it leaves his chest.

‘… I do know you mean well, even though you may not always respond well,’ he answers in a calm, level voice belying the thundering heartbeats behind his ribs. ‘I appreciate you telling me.’

Gladiolus grunts out a little noise of gladness and pleasure, and just like that, the shadow and heaviness that Ignis has been carrying since even before the disagreement in Fodina Caestino almost seem like they’re beginning to trickle and drain from his veins. It’ll be a while yet before either of them will truly be alright, Ignis knows. But it’s a start.

Clearly, the bond between soulmates isn’t always smooth and unshakeable – Prompto’s initial doubts about his soul-bond with Noctis was proof of that, years back when he’d just begun discovering himself and he and Ignis were only in the early stages of grappling with their feelings for each other. That mess had settled itself startlingly well in all respects, though, with Prompto easily ironing out the creases in both of his connections with Noctis and Ignis due in part to his heartfelt determination alone; thinking about it, Ignis supposes that he can at the very least follow in those footsteps and try to bring about the same outcome here.

The fleeting image of Prompto’s sunlit, toothy smile flashes across his mind’s eye, supportive and proud like some cosmic sign that he’d approve of Ignis’ resolve in this even if he isn’t currently in the vicinity to witness it, and Ignis’ chest pangs.

‘… You aren’t wrong about our duties to Noct,’ he presses on, reluctantly taking a step away and placing some distance between them; he misses the steady, grounding heat of Gladiolus’ grip on his upper arm already. ‘And you have my assurance that I’ll fight with everything I have to get back on my feet again.’

‘I don’t doubt that in the slightest,’ says Gladiolus agreeably, obviously in better spirits.

‘Good,’ Ignis declares, chin lifting, shoulders squaring. ‘That being sorted, we should both get some proper sleep. Do me a favor and store my daggers away nice and safe for me, will you. Catch.’

He tosses the daggers over in an arc without any hesitation to speak of; dual smacks against skin lock in the confirmation and knowledge that they’ve each been caught securely. A reassuring sound.

‘Won’t be long before I’ll be throwing these back at you,’ Gladiolus murmurs, and not one iota of that statement hints at a current absence of trust.

The corners of Ignis’ mouth curve.

‘I look forward to it.’

* * *

Even despite his long-gone vision, Ignis sees the dawn.

It trickles into the fringes of the black of his eyesight, a pale kaleidoscope of forgotten purples, pinks, reds. A spectrum of colors that he’s now slowly starting to remember after years of being unwillingly torn away from them, after a long decade of striving and surviving and enduring in the deepest funerary dark. Today is a day that he’s sure will always be remembered; grief and hope burn together in his heart tissue like an intermingling of winter and summer, and without any reserve, he welcomes them both.

‘… Where did I drop my daggers?’

‘I’ve got ‘em,’ Gladiolus calls out, moderate and steady. ‘Here.’

Twin rushes of wind, twin slashes of sliced air. Ignis splays both hands out readily, and goes on to catch the weapons with well-practiced ease. _Perfect_.

‘—Well,’ says Gladiolus in smooth continuation, as the crisp click-clacking of his boots proceed to make their way closer. ‘What now?’

Ignis’ teeth dig wetly into one corner of his bottom lip in fleeting thought.

‘We keep walking tall. And don’t stop.’

‘Mind if we all do that together?’ Gladiolus murmurs, with just the slightest trace of harmless cheek. ‘You know. Side-by-side.’

A single short, sharp snip of breathy laughter, and Ignis can’t help but smile through the boundless ache in his chest. ‘I wouldn’t expect anything less.’

Sunrise is crisp, cold, resplendent; on Ignis’ other side, Prompto shuffles right up next to him and lets out a noise of awe.

The triangle of vastly different bonds between the remaining three of them – two being plain friends, two being platonic soulmates, two being long-term lovers – can really only flourish from this point on, Ignis knows, and hold firm all the more after already managing to survive the worst of the dark, hopeless days. And as it is, they’re already starting to heal. They’re already taking their next step forward.

They’ll all be more than alright.

Ignis trusts in that, in Gladiolus and Prompto, in all his comrades, in all the days to come – and finds himself more than ready for whatever tomorrow will bring.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading all the way to the end! As always, if there's anything that all of these boys deserve, it's a happy ending. Man, I love promnis so much, so this entire fic was a joy to write - I always just want them to be together and happy. If you have a moment to spare, please let me know what you think! This entire fic has been a labor of love over these past few months and I'd appreciate any feedback you can give :)
> 
> Come chat about promnis with me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/silverxharmony/status/1273984975004549120) or [Tumblr](https://harmonization.tumblr.com/post/621361856269975553/%22)! Believe me when I say I'll still love these boys for years to come and I'll always want to talk about them ♥


End file.
